


No More Mr. Nice Guy - Sylar and Luke fic

by Sylar (FanficbyLee)



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficbyLee/pseuds/Sylar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>What should have happened after S3 Shades of Gray. Warning character death. Yes, Luke dies. He is the most hated character in Heroes as far as I'm concerned.</p>
    </blockquote>





	No More Mr. Nice Guy - Sylar and Luke fic

**Author's Note:**

> What should have happened after S3 Shades of Gray. Warning character death. Yes, Luke dies. He is the most hated character in Heroes as far as I'm concerned.

Character: Sylar and Luke  
Genre: Gen  
Author: [](http://sylar.livejournal.com/profile)[**sylar**](http://sylar.livejournal.com/)  
Fandom: Heroes  
Word count: 1000ish  
Rating: R - for violence and language  
Prompts:  
The thunderstorm - [](http://100-fairytales.livejournal.com/profile)[**100_fairytales**](http://100-fairytales.livejournal.com/)  
176\. Tell the story of one of your past scars - [](http://theatrical-muse.livejournal.com/profile)[**theatrical_muse**](http://theatrical-muse.livejournal.com/)  
Notes: What should have happened after S3 Shades of Gray. Warning character death. Yes, Luke dies. He is the most hated character in Heroes as far as I'm concerned.

There were black clouds on the horizon. That’s the thing about being on the open road. You can see the weather coming for miles. It would be one hell of a storm, and I couldn’t wait to feel the rain on my face. It, along with the blood, would clear the stench of cigarette smoke from my nostrils. With a flick of my finger I turn up the stereo, the pounding chorus of Down With the Sickness rattling the glass. It’s my theme song, so I set the CD player on repeat.

Thunder shook the ground as I slipped out of the stolen SUV. My boots crunched on the gravel strewn ruin of the parking lot. I readied myself for an attack. Either I’d be shot by the Feds, or Luke would try to use his power to boil my blood, and fuck me if I wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Luke!” I called out as lightning flashed in the distance. I counted the seconds one, two, three, four, and the thunder crashed. Inside the dilapidated diner I heard a whimper and a yelp. “Luke! It’s Sylar! I’m back.” Back for you. Back to take care of removing an annoying witness. I don’t normally kill kids. I’d let Molly Walker go, didn’t I? But Luke was different. He was a killer. He’d fight back. He lost his place at the kiddie table when he killed Agent Simmons.

“Sylar?” He’s sitting in the corner, his knees drawn up.

“I think I’m insulted,” I tell him as I come toward him. I can smell the fear on him. It’s worse than it was the entire trip here. Another flash of light shatters the darkness, and he jumps again. “You’re more afraid of a little thunder storm than you are me.”

“Why would I be afraid of you?” He mumbled and slowly got up from the floor. He was telling the truth about that, and Christ I hated that. I must have really had my head up my ass on this little adventure if he wasn’t at least a little bit afraid of me. “We’re friends, right? Did you find him?”

“Yeah,” I said, watching him jump when more thunder roared above us. “I found him. Let him to rot too, and I don’t mean that I killed him. He wasn’t worth my time. He didn’t have anything I wanted. Although he did remind me of my purpose in life.”

“Well that’s good.” Luke brushed the dirt off his jeans, not that it helped. Outside the rain started to pour, coming down hard enough that it didn’t take more than a few moments for it to start coming through what was left of the roof. “So where are we going next? Do you want to find your mom?”

“My mother’s dead,” I snapped, my lips drawing back from my teeth in a snarl. “Remember. I told you before I left. But you already knew that didn’t you. Samson told you that he sold me to his brother. What other little secrets do you know about me?”

The fact that the turd faced little bastard knows as much about me as he dies pisses me off. That my father would share this information with him when he cast me aside is like salt and broken glass in a gaping wound. For him to think of Luke as a person, when I was a commodity filled me with an almost epic need for violence. My anger shook the building around us as I unleashed the force of my rage combined with telekinesis.

Luke was blasted off of his feet, hitting the wall hard enough to knock a few boards loose and hopefully a few teeth. He raised his hand, sending a wave of his power at me. I don’t bother to block it. I’m curious to see how it might affect me if it even can. I also want to see how long the little shit can keep it up. The heat builds in my chest and my guts. I can feel each molecule as they’re agitated by his microwaves. It wasn’t pleasant, but it couldn’t hurt me. My regen fought it back, repairing the ruptured cells before the damage could spread enough to make me do more than end up short of breath. Luke on the other hand was sweating like he’d run a marathon. His hand was shaking, and I could see his skin start to blister as his power started to eat his own flesh. That made my smile widen. It reminded me of James Walker freezing himself all those years ago. I locked my eyes with his and stalked toward him, one careful step at a time.

“Why won’t you die?!” He screamed and brought up his other hand, or tried too since with a flick of my fingers I pinned it against the wall behind him.

“Because you’re stupid.” I licked my lips as I wrapped my hand over his outstretched one, focusing the strength of my telekinesis around his fingers until they snapped and his power shut down. Luke screamed in pain, clutching his broken hand to his chest while I loomed over him. “You should have taken the head shot. I’m pretty sure that power of yours would have blown my head off if you tried. I’ll be sure to find out when it’s mine.” I raised my finger and started the cut across his forehead. The thunder drowned out the sound of his scream as I sawed into his skull. “Which it will be in about five minutes, I’ll be sure to practice on your guts before I head back to New York.” 

Thanks for reading. Comments are better than chocolate chip cookies.


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